No More Games
by the-one-called-Drew
Summary: Post Saw3 THERE ARE SPOILERS! John, aka Jigsaw, awakens after the events of Saw 3, and is confronted by a situation he never expected to find himself in.. A game. Please R&R, and be kind,this is my first FF in a few years.


**Disclaimer:** **I do not own the character of John Kramer/ Jigsaw, or Billy the Puppet. Also, I mean no disrespect towards Jigsaw; I love the character, and actually agree with him quite a bit. But this idea seemed too good to pass up.**

**Note- This is post Saw 3, and thus contains spoilers to that movie. If you have not seen the movie, and don't want it ruined, do not read on.**

**No More Games**

It was dark.

The first thing that occurred to him as his eyelids opened, was that wherever he was, it was dark. Not just a normal dark; a deep, inky blackness that left no room for sight. The kind of dark in which one could not see there hand if it were right in front of their eyes. Ones hand..

Instinctively, he tried to move his left hand, as he'd been using it quite a bit lately. But nothing happened. He couldn't even feel his arm, and was unsure if he'd even moved it. Maybe his brain had gotten so bad that the impulses no longer worked. But wait, his brain shouldn't have given him any more trouble. In fact, nothing should, not after.

Not after Jeff had sliced his throat with that buzz saw. That was the end; the end of that game, of all games. Jeff's, Lynn's, Amanda's, his own. The pieces were put away, and the box closed. No more games.

So why couldn't he move? And why was it so dark?

He would admit, he'd never subscribed to the theory of bright lights, clouds and angels on the other side, or any other theories of the afterlife. But the fact that he was conscious of himself and where he was.. He was very confused.

The silence of wherever he sat, was broken momentarily, by a sound he knew very well... The wheels of a rusty tricycle, turning slowly, as if driven by a very weak child.

"No...How?"

Out of the neverending darkness in front of him, came a small red tricycle, with a tuxedo wearing, white faced doll riding on it.. Billy, the puppet.. His puppet.

Suddenly, a light opened above him, illuminating the doll and himself, and letting him get a good luck at his predicament.

The bike stopped, and the doll's head turned slowly towards him. It's mouth dropped, and after a pause, a voice came from inside. His own voice, and it spoke words he knew by heart.

_"Hello John... I want to play a game"_

John Kramer, alias Jigsaw, sat in a metallic chair, almost throne like. His arms, from the wrists to the elbows, were strapped to the armrests, his legs to the chair legs, his feet to the floor. He could feel a strap across his chest, and one slithering across his neck. Moving his eyes slightly, he noticed that he was no longer in the clothes he'd worn on his death bed, but instead, the black and red robe he was accustomed to. His assessment complete, he returned his gaze to the taunting puppet, who had remained silent.

_"You have spent the last years of your life, your, golden years, playing God. You gave yourself the right to judge others, and in turn force them into games of death. You claimed that your newfound outlook was the result of the cancer, or better, your near death experience after learning of the cancer. But that was only a crutch. The truth is John, that you are a sick man, but not because of the disease eating you. No, you are sick because you took joy in watching those people suffer. You never cared about them or the lives they led, or looked upon the positives in their lives. You only looked at the negative, and used it to fuel your game. Your fetish for torture, how many lives did you destroy? Families, friendships, all shattered to feed your perverse, sadistic mind."_

John wanted to speak, but he couldn't find the words. He was still to shocked at all of this; the chair, the puppet, and most disturbing, how true the doll's words were.

_"But it didn't matter what you did. You would be dead soon, and all would be over. But the game doesn't end that easily John, especially yours. You always asked them John, how far they were willing to go, how much blood they would shed, to stay alive.. Well, how far will you go John? How much suffering will you inflict upon yourself, to die?"_

The light grew, and John paled at the site of the room. It resembled a medieval dungeon, complete with every implement of punishment one could imagine. He shuddered at what the puppet wanted him to do with all of this, or what he meant.

_"Don't worry about time, time is non-existent. But pain, suffering.. As you yourself once said, you haven't seen anything yet. The rules are simple John, and I won't bore you with them. You can use your imagination... Suffer John... your only choice... Let the game begin"_

With that, Billy the Puppet vanished into the darkness, leaving John in his chair, face to face with an eternity of pain. Payment for all the pain he had inflicted upon his victims.. Looking at the walls around him, and at his now free limbs, he knew one thing.

His game had just begun.


End file.
